Unrequited Rivalry
by gloomsday
Summary: L's being good at tennis goes back a long way, to when he was just a boy. But through this enthralling game of mathematics and wit, Raito and L's rivalry go back longer than you may think... Light/L


**Disclaimer:** I do not own nor claim to own Death Note, neither do I claim L and Raito as my own characters.

**Note:** Just a fun little excerpt that I speculated from L's childhood. I have no proof of this happening, and to be perfectly blunt, it _didn't_ happen. Just makes you think…

**Summary:** How did L become so good at tennis? His past life is so concealed… and it's got to be sort of sad ;; because angst of the L fangirl says so xP

**Warning:** Spoiler for chapter 58 in part 3 and possibly part 2 — SHOUNEN AI WARNING XD

**Pairing:** Hinted LxRaito, stronger in Parts 2 and 3.

Part 1/3

_Of Rain and Light_

No one asked him to play. No one ever did.

L sat alone, perched in a far corner of the tennis court, bare feet exposed and toes twitching slightly. His left arm was draped over his calves, while his right hand's thumb was wedged so delicately between his top and bottom row of teeth. The young boy's entire physical being was placed brutally on his feet, and though his frail figure did not amount to much weight, the position still seemed uncomfortable in _any_ case.

But not for L. Pensive ideas were futile unless he allowed himself to recoil to this stance. It was just out of habit now. Everything that young L did was based on purely habit or craving, including the strange way he situated himself, ate or walked. Though these behaviors caused him to become socially repellent, it wasn't his concern what others thought. It never had been; never would.

Nevertheless, L remained doubled over day by day, watching the players on the tennis court. It was a new obsession for him, along to his accompanying craving for chocolate covered strawberries. He just told himself that the way the heat of the sun gathered onto the cement court and trickled into the thick souls of his feet was what he really enjoyed; the way his thin body writhed due to the surge of unnatural heat that prickled his skin. But he knew that this reason wasn't the truth. To put it blatantly: the game of tennis enthralled L.

By studying every movement of the players, he came to the conclusion that tennis was entirely mathematical (something that L would naturally be good at). He observed the responses of the competitors and how the swinging of the tennis racket was timed perfectly from the moment the ball touched the cement, resulting in a hard and strong hit, sending the rubber ball hurtling towards the other side of the court.

Yes, L would be good. But his solitude would never get him anywhere with this game. No matter how content L was by himself, it would not win him any kind of skill in tennis, or any skill on _any_ social level. And by no means could L summon the nerves to possibly ask someone. It was unthinkable of a recluse (such as himself) to even consider doing such a thing.

And he knew this… But that was just who L was.

Poor L even managed to get himself a racket of his own. He lost visual contact momentarily with the tennis game to stare down at his treasure that was nestled gently in his hands. He unconsciously stroked the head of the racket and fingered the tightly strung cords that formed a checkered design within the wooded frame. The grip on the handle felt strangely gummy to the touch, but he recalled that the sweet juices of the chocolate covered strawberries that he had been eating must have clung to his fingers and thus clung to the rubber grip. He thrust his fingers into his own mouth and sucked off the juice from his fingers and swallowed, quite content by the taste.

L glanced up to the sky, never really letting his eyes leave the game. It would be raining soon. The weatherman announced that there was an eighty-four percent chance, and the humidity had increased at least ten percent (according to L's senses) in the past hour. Leaves that were stagnant on the cement floor now began to whirlpool upwards and drift alongside the cool breeze.

_Soon… soon._

L watched intently the players on the court nearest him. The one that especially surprised him was a boy, probably around the same age (give or take a year or two). The way he swung the racket with such grace was outstanding, and L could tell just by the way he conducted himself on the court that the boy was smart, probably brilliant. Of course, he couldn't actually see his face because he was on the same side of the square as L, but he just ended up staring at the very movements of this boy instead of watching the game _or_ the tennis ball.

_Is it tennis that I am entranced with, or…_

Shaking the idea from his mind, he embraced himself tightly as a strong wave of cold air brushed against his exposed skin. He noticed a rain drop that spattered against the floor, followed by a few others. One fell on his cheek and dripped solemnly down his face. L smiled slightly. He loved the rain.

His eye barely caught the sudden movement of the male player he had been watching, a movement that _was not _complementary to his usual self-confident poise. A sudden feeling of dread overcame L and was reassured with a blow to the forehead by a stray tennis ball. He lost his perfect childish balanced and fell backwards against the chain link fence. Like a cat having finally fallen on its back, L flailed for a moment and then finally pulled himself up back again into his fetal position. He embraced himself even tighter now, embarrassed by his display. The tennis ball that had struck him rolled quietly to his feet, and he had the urge to pick it up. He even felt his fingers start to tingle with want, and it eventually got the better of him. L reached for it and held it up by his middle finger and thumb, as if he was inspecting a highly noxious gas through a test tube.

He looked up cautiously to see the boy he had been watching walk up to him, his stretched shadow already enveloping L. Even his casual gait towards L was elegant and flawless. His perfectly groomed, chestnut hair fell around his face and his eyes looked fierce and ambitious. He had a slight smile scrawled across his face, but as he came closer to L, the young boy's expression went from cheerful to an awestruck gaze. He was holding out his hand limply (as if to expect the tennis ball), but it seemed that this boy was as fixated with L as L was with this boy's… tennis skill?

* * *

_Dark, unkempt hair; unnaturally pale skin; abysmal eyes that had no boundaries…_ The boy's mouth gaped open. Never had he seen such a fragile looking creature. It was surreal. It had to be… 

The rain started to fall was much more force now. L, feeling quite violated and uncomfortable by the penetrating stare he was receiving, thrust his hands with the ball right into the boy's chest, shutting his eyes tightly.

The boy began to say something, but stopped. He had an unreadable look playing on his face.

"Don't you have enough sense to come out of the rain?" His voice was tenor and rather strong.

L didn't respond. He just stared at the boy with uncertainty and shock that someone even bothered to speak to him. It was then that L noticed that the boy's other hand was behind his back, and was hiding something. He pulled out a black umbrella and assembled it fluidly, placing the umbrella above L and holding it, allowing the rain to fall upon himself. Neither of them spoke.

"Hey, Raito-kun! Let's go, it's raining!" The girl that he had been competing against waved to get his attention.

The boy apparently named Raito turned slightly in the direction of the girl, turned back to L, and opened his mouth as if to say something. He must have thought better of it because instead he grasped the ball from L's soft hands, handed L the umbrella (in a very tender way), smiled, and turned, breaking into an involuntary trot. He met the young girl at mid court and turned around to look at L once more (probably to reassure himself that he had actually seen someone so eccentric) and promptly left the tennis court.

L watched the boy named Raito walk out of the court, stunned. He held the umbrella dumbly, just looking at it. This Raito character was the first person to even attempt into making contact with L. The first person to give him anything out of pure desire…

Young L bucked his head backwards and let the rain run down his face.

He was completely and utterly alone.

And no one, not even one named Light, could _ever_ change that.

…

(or so he thought.) XDDDDDD Just kidding!

End Note #1: If you caught any words that are commonly associated with sexual jargon, then I love you. Because I am unskilled at NC-17 (or porn) writing, I decided to use innocent words in order to portray a sexual tension between Raito and L, without anything actually happening. Did it work? Or… was it just bad writing? XD

Hold on for Part 2. D More sexual tension. ;D


End file.
